“Aye.”
“She was very patient with me today,” Rose said. “I’m afraid I am not a natural at sheep management.”
That earned Rose a quiet chuckle from Ann. “You did all right in the end, Miss Van Etten.”
“How do you like working at Muckle Skaill?” Rose asked.
“It’s fine, milady—I mean miss—now that you’re in charge.”
Now,thatwas a telling turn of phrase. “You didn’t like the earl.”
Ann stiffened again, and she seemed to retreat back into herself. “I didn’t know him.”
“But you worked there?” Rose asked.
“The other girls told me to stay in the kitchens when he was in residence. He never stayed long. Not like he did before the war.”
Interesting. What had made him cut those trips short?
“What did you think of his son?” Rose asked.
“It wasn’t my place to think of him or the earl,” Ann said quickly.
Rose was trying to figure out how to worm her way around that answer when Myrtle suddenly rematerialized with the Flett children in tow. Little Alexander tugged on Rose’s hand and stared up at her with huge eyes. “You can run really fast. Even Thorfinn said so.”
“Is that true?” Rose said, surprised at the odd rush of pride that the boy’s two sentences caused. She’d received so many admiring comments over the years—most of them inspired by her wealth more than anything else—that they’d become banal. But this child’s were heartfelt and wholly unexpected. He wanted nothing in return, and she suspected that his older brother would be horrified to learn that Alexander had shared his complimentary thoughts.
“You’re like your race car,” Alexander added, making Rose laugh in delight. She rather liked the comparison.
“I did have a lot of fun today,” Rose told the boy and his siblings, realizing how much she meant the words. Shehadenjoyed herself chasing after those sheep.
“It is a shame that we’re not having a ceilidh like we usually do to celebrate after gathering the flock.” Barbara sighed. “Nowthatwas a jolly good time.”
“It has been ever so long since we had one,” her twin, Mary, added just as longingly. “I barely remember the last one.”
“I don’t at all,” Margaret said gravely.
“Me either,” Alexander chimed in.
“That’s because we haven’t had one since the war,” Hannah said. “Right, Freya?”
“That’s correct,” Freya said with a sigh. “I do miss them, though.”
“You know,” Rose said as a new cover for her investigation began to form, “I’ve never had the good fortune to attend a ceilidh. I’ve heardthere is plenty of food, singing, and dancing.” And alcohol, which always loosened tongues quite proficiently.
“And storytelling!” Mary said with a bounce.
“Now that sounds like a good time,” Myrtle said. “I’d love to hear more about the local folklore.”
“I’ll be sure to see that you both receive a proper invitation to the next one on Frest,” Freya promised.
But Rose didn’t have time to wait for the crofters to throw a party—not if she wanted to use the affair to ferret out more information about the earl, the viscount, and whatever else the islanders were hiding. The attendees would be in high spirits ... and unguarded. People always spoke more freely at fetes, even when not soused. And ifshethrew the event, she might seem more approachable and less the highborn lady of the manor. It seemed as if her skills at entertaining might have a broader use than she’d ever imagined.
Smiling, she turned toward Margaret, who was closely watching as the adults tended to the flock. “As you seem to know more about being Lady of Muckle Skaill than I do, would it be appropriate of me to host a ceilidh for everyone on Frest?”
Margaret swung her wide gaze away from the enclosure. Her solemnity vanished in a bubbly giggle as she gleefully clapped her hands. “Oh yes! Oh yes!”
“Well then, I’ll need all of you children to help me plan it, since Myrtle and I have never attended one.” Organizing the festivities would give Rose one more excuse to spend time with the crofters.
